FINE ARTS. 267 



That whisper to her heart speaks on her face ; it says — He is gone ! 

 gone for ever ! dead ! dreadful word ! My gay — my young, my beautiful, 

 and brave ! my betrothed ! he perished in battle ! Oh, war ! accursed 

 ■war ! and doubly accurst ye instruments of hell, who kindle its 

 devouring flames ! Why was I not with him to have shielded him ! to 

 have brought off his lifeless corpse ! But, no ! Even the sad consolation 

 of shedding a tear at his grave is denied me ! The midnight wolf, the 

 famished vulture, the screaming eagles, feed on his precious remains ! 



There is a " lex non scripta," an universal law, above all written laws, 

 and an unwritten language, without voice, more eloquent than tongue or 

 pen, which speaks in the eye, in the movement of the lip, in the change of 

 colour, in the downcast or averted countenance. It is the universal 

 language of expression, the Painter's language, whether his subjects are 

 in elevated history, or in humble life. But how few, how very few 

 possess it in the first degree. It is the prerogative of superior Genius. 



This — gifted Landseer — this divine 



Prerogative, from Heaven, is thine : 



With moving eloquence, thy art 



Thus speaks, in silence, to the heart : 



For this, to thee, the sacred meed 



The favouring Muses have decreed ; 



And faithful to their mystic vow. 



Entwine the laurel on thy brow ; J 



While Truth inscribes thy modest name, 



Upon the shining roll of Fame. 



What a talented family those Landseers ! The father, an able engraver, 

 an eloquent lecturer ! How beautiful his description of Count Goudt's 

 Aurora ! The pencil of Edwin ! stretching like a sceptre over all this 

 ** visible diurnal sphere I" touching every thing, and, like Goldsmith, 

 embellishing whatever he touches! How I called attention, in the 

 ** Literary Journal," or "Literary Gazette,*' to his ** Traveller 

 perishing in the Alpine Snows," when that picture was exhibited fifteen 

 or sixteen years ago ! Then, this Charles, rising like a brilliant beam of 

 light in the morning ! His three cabinet gems in this exhibition are 

 hung low down ; but I bent on my old knees to them, and they repaid 

 me. I visited his Glad and Sad Tidings, day after day, at the British 

 Gallery in Pall Mall, or in one of the smaller rooms of the Suffolk-street 

 Exhibition, last winter, and soon adverted to them with no laggard pen 

 in the " Worcester Herald." 



" 56 — Portrait of Francis Chantrey, Esq., R.A.," the property of Sir 

 Robt. Peel, Bart., by the late J. Jackson, R. A. This artist was one of the 

 best colourists of his time, although very inferior in the drawing and 

 disposition of his whole lengths to several of his contemporaries. His 

 head of Liston, the actor, and that of an architect (I believe the name 

 was Dance), when exhibited, at Somerset House, were superior to any 

 in the rooms, although Lawrence, Shee, Owen, and Phillips, exhibited 

 many capital portraits those years. In depth, richness, force, and har- 

 mony, his two heads were astonishing performances. This of Chantrey 

 is a three-quarter length, and painted with a full, free pencil. It is a 

 very fair likeness of the living original, but, by no means, so good a one 

 as that by Sir Henry Raeburne, who not only gave the features, but the 

 mind, of the British Phidias. The attitude, here, is not at ease, but the 

 colouring, light, and shadow, are excellent. 



•' 46— Portrait of a Lady,'* by H. Wyatt. This half-length is nearly 

 in a front view, and a dark dress, with an easy turn of the head; the 

 character conversational and intelligent, lively and pleasing. The 



